


Day 11: Stitches

by MadhouseVagabond



Series: Whump-tober 2019 [11]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Crying, Gen, M/M, Stitches, Whumptober, Zombie AU, day no. 11, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 16:25:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21018749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadhouseVagabond/pseuds/MadhouseVagabond
Summary: Ryan has to stitch himself up while on the run for his life.





	Day 11: Stitches

Ryan bit back the cry of pain as he stumbled forward, risking a glance back and going pale when he saw the hoard following him. He was so close to camp, so close to safety and friends, but he wasn't going to make it, not at the rate he was going. He glanced down at his bleeding arm where he had a hand clamped down firmly, blood oozing out from under his hand and trickling down his arm; the wound most likely needing stitches.

He'd been out looting the small town a few miles from their base with Jeremy, gathering supplies and some special treats for the kids in the camp, sneaking a few items to surprise the smaller man with when they returned, a large smile spreading across his face. They'd just finished loading up their packs when they'd been attacked by one of the hoard, the zombie leaping out at him and startling a cry out of Jeremy. He'd fired instinctively and managed to get away, getting separated from Jeremy in the rush to escape, suffering a deep cut on his arm as he retraced his steps back the way he'd come, hoping to meet up with the lad and make their way home together.

Now he was searching desperately for a place to hide, somewhere he could hold up for the night or even just until the hoard passed, where he could treat his wound. He finally ducked into an old garage off the main street, panting as he cleared the room and closed the door mostly all the way. With a small groan he pressed his back to the wall and slid down, exhaustion weighing on him. He winced and hissed in pain as he pulled off his pack and retrieved the med-kit all runners were required to carry for self use or if they encountered anyone who needed help.

He whimpered slightly as he threaded the needle and looked down at his wound, psyching himself up to begin the stitching process. He found a small stick and bit down on it as he began, small whimpers escaping him as he sat alone stitching his arm back up, small tears streaming down his cheeks from the pain. Finally the arm was done, the stitches would have to be replaced once he'd returned and he'd have to properly clean and dress the wound but it worked for the time being. He spat the stick out once he'd finished and wiped his face, breathing heavily. He hated doing field aid but in times like these he was glad he had the skill and knowledge for wilderness first aid.

He wondered how Jeremy was doing, if the lad was alright, if he'd made it out or if he was already back at camp wondering where Ryan was. He reached for his walkie talkie and turned the volume down.

"JDoolz this is Vagabond do you copy, over?" he asked, releasing the button and listening intently for a reply.

Nothing.

"He's probably in an area where he can't call back, or his walkie died or broke, or...something," he reasoned out loud in a deep, quiet voice so as not to attract attention.

He tried to convince himself that was the case but the doubt was creeping in, reminding him of all the other partners he'd lost through the years. Jeremy was number nine, and hopefully the last one, Ryan refused to lose anyone else close to him. He smiled a little. Yes, he and Jeremy were close, closer than any of his other partners had been with him. They’d instantly clicked the moment the lad walked into camp and made it his home. He couldn't imagine life without the younger man, not wanting to start.

He shook his head, feeling tears threatening his eyes. He didn't want to imagine Jeremy scared and running for his life, trapped with no escape, torn to shreds by the undead while he screamed in pain, screaming for Ryan, begging for help.

A strangled sob ripped itself from him and he quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide as they snapped to the garage door where the hoard of undead roamed on the other side. He waited for several moments before releasing his mouth and sighing.

"JDoolz this is Vagabond please respond. Over," he whispered into his walkie again, and again no response. Worry ate away at him, nagging his mind with thoughts of his partner being killed, eaten, turned. He shook his head, hearing the screams of several of his past partners echoing in his mind, the feeling of helplessness returning.

"Jeremy dammit answer me!" he cried.

Still no answer.

The sounds of a zombie clawing at the garage door reached his ears, the creature more likely exploring the door than trying to get at him if the sounds indicated anything. Ryan made a small noise of pain as he pulled his legs up to his chest and pressed his forehead to his knees, crying softly. He wanted Jeremy, he wanted this living nightmare to be over or all a fucked up dream. He tried to think of Jeremy, smiling and laughing that high pitched bubbly laugh he made, but instead his worry only made him see a small, half decayed zombie with Spyro tattoos.

The small velvet box he'd picked up on today's outing weighed heavily in his pocket, the question he'd wanted to ask Jeremy for ages now probably never to be uttered. Ryan huddled in the corner, as hundreds of the undead roamed outside, wishing he was back home with Jeremy instead of cowering in shelter with poorly stitched wounds. He knew he was being ridiculous, that Jeremy was probably fine and his mind was jumping to conclusions based of his past trauma, but he could help the wave of loss and sadness that washed over him, feeling helpless as tears slid down his cheeks.

“Jeremy, I need to know you’re safe. I need to know you’re okay. If anything happened to you...” he let off the call button on the walkie as a sob escaped him. “Just...please be okay. I care too much about you, I don’t want to lose you. I-I love you Jeremy.”

The words felt so right to say out loud, although he’d prefer to be looking into the lad’s chestnut-brown eyes when he said it. He needed to say them, in case anything did happen. He set the walkie aside and huddled in the corner, hoping against hope that his friend was still alive and well, and that the zoms would move on soon so he could search for Jeremy.

He’d completely forgotten the pain of his crude stitching job, the pain in his heart more intense than the physical.

**Author's Note:**

> He sorry this one and the next couple are late, work and school got crazy for a bit there but I’m gonna try to get caught up.


End file.
